


Mundane Tasks

by Bullfinch



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Trans Fenris, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullfinch/pseuds/Bullfinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke asks Fenris over to help out with some gardening. He may or may not have ulterior motives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -The first chapter involves manual labor (that is not a euphemism). The second chapter involves "manual labor" (that is a euphemism).  
> -Takes place between acts 2 and 3. AU in which Hawke's mom doesn't die because I hated that.  
> 

"Just outside the city," Hawke says. "I am a man of few talents, but one of them is definitely making enemies, and I'd rather keep my mother out of harm's way as much as possible. The house was owned originally by the Basreels, though they haven't used it in quite a while, and it's a bit, well, overgrown."

Isabela's lip curls. "You expect me to do honest work? And not even get paid for it?"

Varric looks equally skeptical. "Yeah, Hawke, I like talking and shooting, but landscaping?"

"You haven't seen it. It's like someone took a little piece of the Brecelian and stuck it in the middle of the Marches, except there's a house under all that. I can't do this by myself," Hawke pleads.

Isabela heaves a dramatic sigh. "Fine, fine. But drinks are on you for the rest of the month. Agreed?"

He slumps in relief. "Agreed."

"Well, I'll do it for that price." Varric grins.

"How about you, Fenris?" Hawke asks.

Fenris thinks about it. A strange concept. He's taken odd jobs here and there since he gained his freedom, but they were usually at least a _little_ violent. And as a slave, he mostly performed indoor tasks. He was too priceless to sully with common dirt. Clearing overgrowth seems to him an extraordinarily mundane undertaking.

And all the more interesting for that. Especially if it means spending time with Hawke. "Why not? I'll help."

"Excellent!" Hawke slaps the table. "I'll see you all tomorrow morning at ten."

——

Fenris arrives slightly late. Hawke has made breakfast. It's pastries. They look abominable but taste quite good. Hawke has hacked most of the vines off of the outdoor furniture, and the two of them eat together on the porch while waiting for Isabela and Varric.

They wait for some time.

Eventually Fenris remarks, "I suspect they're not coming after all." 

"Hm. Maybe you're right." Hawke shrugs.

"I also suspect you may have had prior knowledge of this. Considering you made enough breakfast for two. Not four."

"What? That's…I just didn't know you'd be this hungry. That's all." 

Fenris doesn't even think Hawke is trying to hide the truth. "Of course. Presumptuous of me to say." He stands and stretches. "Shall we get to work?"

——

"Overgrown" was perhaps an understatement.

"Consumed," maybe. "Buried." "Drowned."

Among other traditional tools, Hawke brought an old battleaxe he found in the cellars of his estate. (He struggles with it. Fenris has no such difficulty.) Fenris inspects the vines that have grown up over the walls of the house. At the base, they're woody and as thick around as his thigh. He fears the battleaxe will not be enough.

He hefts it in gloved hands. "I'll start here. You go to the opposite corner. You don't want to get caught in the backswing, believe me."

"Oh, I've seen it. Sometimes I think you cut down more enemies by accident than I kill on purpose." Hawke sticks a spade in his belt.

"Nonsense. Those deaths are purposeful. The Tevinter fighting arts do not allow for accidents." 

"Mm-hmm. Right." He strides off toward the far corner of the house. It was a lie, of course—Fenris doesn't have absolute battlefield awareness—but he's not about to tell Hawke that. 

The work is…arduous. 

Fenris discovers that chopping the vines at the base does little, and he must clamber up to saw them into sections with a serrated knife. As he hangs next to a second-story window, holding on with one foot and one hand, he hears Hawke calling up, "Are you sure that's wise?"

Fenris stops what he's doing and gathers himself. "Hawke, I've followed you into battle against mages, darkspawn, Qunari, reanimated corpses, abominations, and three full-grown dragons. Was that wise?"

Hawke thinks about it. "No. Maker, no. I've got no idea why you agreed to do that in the first place."

"Really. You don't."

They watch each other for a moment. Then Fenris starts sawing at the tough stem again. "Best get back to work. There's plenty left to do."

He conquers the vine. And the one next to it, casting the segments down into the front yard. Standing in the thigh-high grass beside the pile of defeated vegetation, he decides it's time for an easier task. It's been a long time since any battle's taxed him this much.

The flower bed that surrounds the house is overflowing. Hawke's been working steadily from one end, and Fenris starts from the other, kneeling and pushing aside the wild branches of the shrubs to get at the weeds below. 

The sun is hot and his muscles are sore already, but Fenris finds that this is extraordinarily relaxing for him. Part of it (a significant part, yes) is because Hawke's here, and whatever mess Fenris created between them over a year ago has settled out by now, leaving them with something warm, unshakable, and a little electric at times. It's good, really good, and Fenris will take as much of it as he can get.

But this doesn't involve killing anyone, or fighting anyone, or saving someone who was going to be killed, or anything of the type. Just the two of them versus some stubborn plant life. And the plants don't want to hurt him. 

It's early afternoon and he's already exhausted, but as days off go, it's a good one.

The sun's not helping matters. Fenris wipes his forehead. "You certainly picked a hot enough day for manual labor."

"I did, didn't I? Silly of me."

An odd response. No matter. Fenris strips his shirt over his head and throws it over one of the open window shutters. Much better. There's a slight breeze, cool on his sweaty skin. 

After a minute Fenris discovers that the stream of grunting and rustling at his back has ceased. Hawke must be taking a break. Or…

Fenris sighs and straightens, tossing his bundle of weeds to the grass. "Hawke, are you ogling me?"

"Hm? No. Er. Maybe."

Fenris turns and arches an eyebrow.

Hawke shrugs helplessly. "I'm sorry, it's just very hard not to—have you seen yourself recently? I mean, unless—" He grows apologetic all of a sudden. "—you'd like me to stop."

Fenris can't figure out the change in tone until he realizes Hawke, always so careful, must be thinking of Fenris's past. He's not wrong to make the connection; Fenris was often stared at, the lean, tattooed elf with the ice-white hair, beautiful and submissive. A true prize, and Danarius especially lucky to be the one to have snatched him up. Fenris grimaces, annoyed. Must his previous life continue to ruin everything that's good about this one?

"I bring it up because it's making you slow, Hawke." He returns to his work, wrapping a vine around one hand. "Not because I mind."

"So if I ogle you _and_ pull weeds at the same time, that's all right, then?"

"That is acceptable." He smiles to himself. The way Hawke stares at him couldn't be any more different from how the magisters did. They inspected him with a critical eye and found him of the highest quality. Something they'd like to own themselves. Hawke stares like he's opening himself up. Waiting to accept…something, from Fenris. 

And Fenris has given him one night and that's it. He wants to give more, but he doesn't think he has anything satisfactory.

But Hawke sees something, otherwise he wouldn't stare. So it must be there. Must be.

There's a breezy sigh from behind him. Fenris looks over his shoulder.

Hawke's removed his own shirt, and he stretches, his muscles tensing. "Ah, much better."

Fenris narrows his eyes. So that's how it is.

Hawke does not look like an elf. Quite the opposite. Broad at the shoulders and waist, chest and stomach covered in dark hair. And yet Fenris always finds his gaze lingering. 

As it is now. He tears himself away, but not before noticing Hawke's impudent grin. Picked a hot enough day. Of course he did. Fenris rips a tall, leafy weed out of the ground with perhaps more force than is necessary. "Back to work, shall we?"

"Oh, of course." 

A few more minutes and he must admit to himself that it takes a certain degree of concentration not to sneak glimpses behind him. He's sure Hawke is doing just that, but Fenris refuses to be caught at it. He will win this game. Doesn't know when it turned into a game, but he's perfectly happy to play.

"Damn, I'm baking."

Fenris allows himself to turn. They are speaking. He has a reason to look at Hawke now.

Hawke shades his eyes. "What do you say we take a break and head inside?"

"Come now," Fenris says drily. "We are warriors. We are not defeated so easily by a few rays of sun."

Hawke sags, disappointed. "Fine."

Fenris is half-hoping they'll continue talking—Hawke's skin is flushed, his muscles standing out from their recent exertion—but Hawke returns to his work. Fenris, watching his shining back, curses himself for being so stubborn.

It's not much longer before they meet in the middle. Hawke tosses the last invader out into the yard and flops down in the grass. "Thank the Maker that's done with."

"Done with?" Fenris pushes his hair back from his forehead. "You realize that five out of the nine windows on this side are still held captive by vines? And there are three other sides of the house we haven't touched."

"Fenris. Please. Let me have this small victory."

Then, with signature speed, he grabs Fenris's ankle and tugs his foot out from under him. Fenris yelps in surprise and lands on his ass next to a cackling Hawke. 

They sit there for a moment, catching their breath. Fenris finds himself smiling for no particular reason. "Hawke. Out of curiosity."

"Hm?"

"Did you call Isabela and Varric off before we all spoke? Or after?"

Hawke covers his face. "I was going to do it after but got too embarrassed. Then it turned out they both saw straight through me anyways and told me they planned to completely forget about the whole thing."

"Ah." Fenris nods. "They're…good friends." _Friends._ He wonders when it'll stop feeling strange to use that word.

Hawke snorts. "I'll say. Can't believe I lost my nerve halfway through. If they hadn't decided to remove themselves…"

"…then perhaps we all would have made more than a minor dent in this endeavor," Fenris observes.

Hawke smacks his arm. "You are incorrigible."

"I— _me?_ _I'm_ incorrigible?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me." Hawke heaves himself to his feet. "Come on, let's go inside."

The inside of the house is far cleaner than Fenris had feared. Hawke toes a bucket of rags aside and flops into an armchair. "I did some dusting."

"Thank the Maker for that." Fenris sits opposite him. "Couldn't you just hire someone to do all this? You certainly have the funds."

"Well, yes, I suppose, but then what else would I do with my day off?" He runs his fingers over his stomach, through the dark hair. It's very distracting.

Fenris collects himself. "Perhaps something that doesn't involve intense physical labor. Just a suggestion."

"You mean like…lie around? Read a book?" Hawke wrinkles his nose. "I wouldn't enjoy that at all."

"Hawke, I know for a fact you enjoy both of those things."

"Well…that's true. But this needed doing, and if I hired it out, then I wouldn't have had such a clumsily arranged excuse to spend time with you." He grins.

Fenris drops his eyes. "Yes."

He wants to say something, but all the things he thinks of are far too strong, too meaningful to drop into an already awkward silence. So Hawke picks it up. "Fenris, I'm not trying to pressure you into anything, I swear. I just like being around you. A lot. And…things are bad in Kirkwall. And I don't know how many of these we'll have left. Days off, or even just days to spend together. So I figured I'd take the opportunity."

"To manipulate me into removing my clothes." Fenris offers Hawke a small smile.

"Not all of them," Hawke points out. "Which isn't to say I'd mind, of course."

Fenris slumps further in his chair. The embroidered fabric is rough against his bare back. "Hawke…"

"Yes?"

He wants to know but is too hesitant to ask and the question comes out half-formed. "Why?"

A pause. "Why what?"

"Why do you continue to pursue me after I let you down last year?" Fenris stares at his knees, unable to meet Hawke's eyes. "What is it you see in me that's fooling you into thinking this is a good idea?"

"Is—is it not? Do you want me to back off?" Less careful now than he normally is. The hurt shows through a little.

"No! No, that's the last thing I want, I just—" Fenris sighs. "I'm bitter and withdrawn and full of hate, and I don't understand why you would go to trouble to spend time with me when I told you I don't have what you're looking for."

Hawke comes over, crouches in front of the armchair, and takes Fenris's hands. Now he's not meeting Fenris's eye. "Because you're bitter and withdrawn and full of hate and I love you."

It doesn't make sense. It's never made sense.

"I hope you're not planning to ask me why I love you, because I haven't got an answer for that." He holds Fenris's hands lightly as if afraid of damaging them. "That's like asking me why my favorite color's purple. Or why I'm right-handed."

"You really—"

"For years, Fenris. Even after you rejected me. Is that so hard to believe?"

Fenris stares at him. "Yes. It is."

Hawke takes his face in both hands and kisses him.

Softly. Nothing like the last time—all frantic intensity, grabbing hands, breath coming quick and heavy. This is tender. Loving.

Fenris is starting to believe it. Not least because he wants this as much as he's ever wanted anything. He stands, pulling Hawke with him. Grabs Hawke's hips and kisses him again.

Hawke laughs as their lips meet, a sound of pure delight. Fenris finds himself smiling. It's true. Still true, after all this time. He won't let himself be denied anymore. He breaks away. "Wait."

"Hm?"

"You said you did some dusting."

"Yes?"

"Does that include the bedroom?"

Hawke grins. "Lucky for you."


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke hooks an arm around Fenris's waist and drags him across the hall. 

Fenris's head is still buzzing with unfamiliar lightness, the stubborn weight of inadequacy gone from him at last. But the sensation of Hawke's skin on his keeps him focused on the task at hand.

It's evident Hawke's been waiting for this for a long time. As soon as they're through the threshold, he spins Fenris and kisses him again, with more intent this time. 

At least that's how it starts. He pulls back after a second, eyes searching Fenris's face.

Fenris knows where the uncertainty is coming from. Hawke's afraid he's being too eager. "You don't have to be careful with me, Hawke."

Hawke visibly relaxes. "Right." When he kisses Fenris again he slides a hand into Fenris's trousers and grabs his ass.

Fenris jumps. That was…unexpected. But hardly unwelcome. He lets himself be groped. It's been a very long time. He thought about going home with someone else a few times since that night he spent with Hawke, but then he started thinking of Hawke and found he didn't want to go out after all.

Hawke has big hands, and he's got both of them inside Fenris's trousers now, practically mauling his ass. Fenris grips Hawke's waist, nervous for no reason, and kisses him hard. 

Then Hawke shifts and slides two fingers over Fenris's slick vulva.

Fenris gasps at the contact and lets out a shameless moan before he can stop himself. "Well," he mutters. That was embarrassing.

"Having fun, are you?" Hawke's smiling like he can't help it.

Fenris kisses Hawke's neck. He's intermittently successful; any time Hawke's fingertip catches at his entrance or flicks across his clit, he loses his focus for a moment. It doesn't help that Hawke's palm is still on his ass, pulling him closer.

Fenris is just starting to rock his hips with need when Hawke slides two fingers into him.

He's soaking wet, and the fingers go deep, all the way to the knuckle. Fenris does something that can only be described as melting into Hawke's chest, making a guttural noise low in his throat. That feels _good._  

The fingers hook in him, Hawke's thumb finding his clit and rolling it slowly. Fenris shivers, panting into Hawke's skin. He thinks the only thing keeping him upright is the firm grip on his ass. So he wraps his arms around Hawke's body, holding him tight. He's sure he won't be able to stand on his own much longer.

Hawke starts thrusting.

Short, quick motions, friction building fast at his entrance, and Fenris can never shut up during sex and this is no exception. He makes a series of breathy sounds into Hawke's chest, clutching at his back, forehead pressing into his shoulder. Hears Hawke murmuring, " _Fuck,_ Fenris," and grits his teeth in response. His toes curl into the carpet.

At last, between the desperate panting, he manages to get the words out. "I feel as though— _ah—_ I'm not— _ah._ Pulling. My weight."

"Fenris, I'd much rather have you writhing on top of me than doing anything else right now."

Hawke does seem to have an appetite for pleasing his partner—the last time they did this, he only let Fenris sleep after giving him three mind-blowing orgasms. So Fenris holds on as best he can and lets the rapid finger-fucking turn his legs to jelly. 

Hawke is gentle and sweet outside the bedroom. Behind closed doors, he's still sweet. But he's also relentless.

"Hawke, let's—" Fenris gasps. "—the bed—"

So Hawke slides his fingers out (Fenris grunts and nearly collapses), and they make their way to the bed, Fenris lying flat. Hawke kneels at the foot and yanks Fenris's trousers off (finally), then pulls him down the bed, wrapping his arms around Fenris's thighs and licking his cunt.

Fenris's back arches at the first contact, the hot breath on him. _"Hawke,_ " he hisses, clutching the sheets. His hips roll forward as Hawke's mouth slides over him, his broad tongue pressing flat against Fenris's cunt, then parting his vulva and probing at his entrance. But Fenris is impatient, and he props himself up on his elbows. "Fuck me, Hawke, damn you— _nnh—"_

Hawke wastes no more time in inserting his fingers back into Fenris's cunt. Fenris is relaxed by now and even wetter, so he can't tell for sure, but he thinks it's three this time. His moan breaks off halfway through when Hawke's lips envelop his clit, sucking gently.

Fenris's cunt clenches around the invading fingers. It's been a long time since he's been opened up like this. Hawke twists inside him, his cunt so wet there's practically no resistance. Fenris flattens himself on the bed, electric pleasure shooting down to his toes. Then Hawke's tongue circles his clit and digs under the hood, and Fenris calls out wordlessly, thankful they're a quarter-mile away from any other houses. He'd rather not broadcast what a mess Hawke is making of him.

It doesn't help when Hawke starts thrusting again. Fenris gasps and curses, pushing himself half-upright and then falling back to the bed. Hawke laughs quietly, an interesting sensation, considering his lips are closed around Fenris's clit.

"What's so—oh, _damn._ Hah. Funny?" Fenris decides that's the last time he'll try and speak. It's too damn difficult.

Hawke breaks away but doesn't stop thrusting. Of course. "Nothing, I'm just happy." He gives Fenris's clit another long lick. "You really are unbearably attractive, you know."

"Well." He's still not totally used to compliments unless someone's trying to bed him, and that already seems a foregone conclusion here. "Thank y— _ah—_ "

Hawke's doubled his pace, and his tongue flickers across Fenris's clit so fast it's nearly vibrating. He did this last time as if he knew what was coming next, and Fenris makes a guttural "hn" as he discovers it's having the exact same result now. The orgasm builds so fast he barely has time to choke out "Hawke, I'm c— _venhedis_ , I'm _coming—"_

He balls both fists in the sheets, his whole body tensing as the orgasm rips through him. He's aware that he's yelling but has neither the will nor the desire to stop. His hips thrust wildly, but Hawke's still got one arm around his thigh and doesn't let go. Hawke's fingers are curled deep inside him, and he feels his cunt squeezing them, sending waves of white-hot pleasure crashing through his core.

Hawke's mouth doesn't leave his clit even after he falls still, not until he's mumbling "Hawke, Hawke, please, that's enough—" and Hawke's mouth is finally gone, his fingers withdrawing slowly.

Fenris lies there, legs dangling. Hawke climbs up onto the bed and waits for Fenris to join him at the head. When this does not occur, he reaches down and drags Fenris up bodily. "Still alive?"

"Just a. A moment." Fenris stares at the ceiling, dazed. How did he survive three of those in one night?

Hawke wraps an arm around him. "That was incredible."

Fenris chuckles.

"I hope you know how amazing it is to feel you coming around me." He kisses Fenris's shoulder. 

"I hope you know how amazing it was to come," Fenris mutters. He's definitely not pulling his weight. But he doesn't think he can move very much right now.

Hawke pulls himself closer. "I'm not going to lie, I never dreamed my plan would work out this well."

Fenris snorts. "You half-disrobed in front of me. The mind tends to wander."

"Flatterer."

"Hawke."

"Hm?"

"Remove the rest of your clothes."

"You spoil me."

Hawke rolls off him. Fenris sits up and rubs his eyes. The post-orgasm sleepiness is setting in, but he beats it back. There's other things he'd like to do right now.

Hawke's standing by the side of the bed, tossing his trousers into the corner. He turns around.

His cock is rock-hard.

"Get over here," Fenris growls.

He can hardly wait the few seconds it takes for Hawke to sit on the edge of the bed, to kneel between Hawke's legs. The process is prolonged by Hawke catching him on the way and kissing him on the mouth. Fenris doesn't mind the delay.

He's eager to see Hawke doing the writhing now. He runs his tongue up the underside of Hawke's shaft and takes the head in his mouth.

Hawke lets out a contented sigh. Fenris smiles around his cock. Good. He comes off and starts jerking Hawke slowly. "I haven't done this in a while, so you'll have to forgive any lack of skill on my part."

Hawke looks for a second like he's trying to figure out how to respond to such an absurd statement. "Fenris—the man I'm hopelessly in love with is sucking my cock. I really don't think skill enters into the picture here."

Still strange to hear. _Hopelessly in love with._ At least he can believe it now. He takes Hawke in his mouth again. There's no way this cock will fit in his throat, but he has other methods. He runs his hands up Hawke's thighs, sinking down deeper. Hears Hawke's breath catch.

He starts bobbing his head in an easy rhythm. Hawke is thick but not all that long, and Fenris can take most of him without bothering his gag reflex. He flicks his gaze up. Hawke's face is flushed, his lips slightly parted. Then he looks down and grins like Fenris is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

After a second Fenris realizes he's stopped what he's doing, so he resumes, holding the base of Hawke's shaft, closing his lips around it, sinking down until the tip hits the entrance to his throat. Experimentally he tries to push himself down further. Without success. Hawke's just too big. He comes off, jerking Hawke, sliding his foreskin down so he can take the exposed head in his mouth and swirl it slowly.

" _Fenris,_ "Hawke gasps, lurching forward. "Maker's fucking _breath,_ that's good."

Absently Fenris dips his free hand down in between his legs. He's practically dripping, which is at least in part from his recent orgasm but is likely also due to the fact that the man he's in love with is groaning in pleasure above him. It's a good feeling. He closes his lips around Hawke's head, sucking gently. 

But he doesn't feel like waiting any longer. "Hawke?"

"Nn. Hm?"

"Lie back."

"All right. Wait."

"What?"

"Kiss me first."

Fenris heaves a sigh. "If that's what it takes."

Hawke sulks. "Well, you don't have to sound so reluctant." 

"Hawke, if you thought for a second I was serious, you're denser than you look." He sits on Hawke's thighs and kisses him, soft and slow.

Hawke's arms wrap around his back, dragging him closer. Fenris holds Hawke's face in both hands. He's never had this kind of intimacy before. Their first night together was more on the intense side. 

Fenris decides he's ready to take the afternoon in that direction. He stands. "Now move."

Hawke shifts back on the bed, and Fenris climbs on top of him, straddling his hips, and leans down to kiss him again. He reaches between their bodies, finding Hawke's cock, sliding his vulva along its length. Hawke moans into his mouth. Fenris smiles. He'll never get tired of that sound.

Then he pushes himself upright. This will require some technique. He lines himself up, Hawke's cockhead brushing his cunt, and takes a deep breath. 

Hawke grins at him. "Are you preparing yourself?"

"Say what you like, but this is no minor undertaking." He spreads his legs a little, the tip pushing into his entrance.

Hawke props himself up on his elbows. "You don't have to if it's too much. If you don't want to."

Fenris arches an eyebrow. "Does it look like I don't want to?"

He sinks down.

He and Hawke make the same lustful noise, as if the wind's been knocked out of them. Fenris is bent over, his forehead on Hawke's shoulder. _Damn_ , but Hawke's big. Hawke's kissing his cheek, running his fingers down Fenris's back. "You doing all right?"

"F…fine." He'd forgotten what it was like to feel this full and is faintly annoyed at himself for going over a year without any sex at all.

"Fenris."

"Hm."

"While you're here, do you mind kissing me again?"

The kissing. Fenris has never done much of that, but it seems very important to Hawke. It must be an intimacy thing. Fenris is finding he enjoys it too.

So he kisses Hawke again. Meanwhile, Hawke's hands travel down his back and grab his ass, giving it a good squeeze.

Intimacy. Right. Fenris won't let that go unanswered. He starts rocking his hips.

Hawke breaks the kiss with a mumbled, " _oh_ , shit." He's hilted already, and Fenris comes up only an inch or so with each motion. He can feel Hawke's shaft stretching his entrance. It's not enough. He wants it to hit him deeper.

He plants his hands on Hawke's chest (firm under his palms) and sits up, fucking Hawke in earnest now. Pulling one hand back to rub his clit, he plows himself up and down on Hawke's cock while Hawke pants and swears and digs his fingers into Fenris's thighs, and Fenris loses his pace once or twice because each time their hips meet, a shock of pleasure runs through him and makes him shiver.

"You're going to—tire yourself out—early," Hawke gasps.

"Then I suppose you'll just have to satisfy me." Fenris savors this, having Hawke at his mercy. Even if Hawke is right. He's tired already from battling weeds all morning, and his arms are starting to ache from supporting himself. 

Hawke's the one writhing now, his back arching, head tilting back into the pillow. " _Maker_ , Fenris, you're ruthless."

"Surely you knew that already." Fenris tilts his hips, changing his angle. 

He gets results immediately, Hawke's fingers tightening on his thighs. " _Fenris,_ that feels— _ah_ , amazing—" 

Fenris impales himself, stretching his cunt with each thrust. He suspects he'll be sore tomorrow but doesn't care at all. 

Then Hawke sits up, wraps both arms around Fenris, and kisses him.

Fenris stops moving and holds Hawke tight. This feels too good to be true. He's never had something this wonderful in his life and he can't imagine it could keep happening. Can't imagine Hawke's his. 

Then Hawke falls back to the bed, taking Fenris down too, and starts fucking him with impossible speed.

Fenris lets out a strangled yell as Hawke holds his hips and jackhammers into him. He grabs Hawke's shoulders, gasping as his cunt is opened up again and again. "H—Hawke—"

The fucking breaks off. "What is it? Are you all right?"

Fenris takes the opportunity to breathe. "Don't. Don't stop."

So Hawke resumes his punishing rhythm. Fenris stutters out a moan, and he goes limp, lets himself be fucked. 

The searing pleasure blasts nearly everything out of his mind, except for one thought: kissing. He doesn't know why that's the one that stays. Kissing is intimate. Affectionate. He should do it. He doesn't have the energy to raise his head, but Hawke's neck is right there, so he kisses that instead. The skin vibrates under his lips as Hawke laughs.

And finally slows down. Fenris is surprised it took this long, especially after they both tired themselves out this morning. But he has another thought. Pushing himself up, he takes Hawke's face in both hands and kisses him on the mouth, hard. Hawke returns it, grabbing Fenris's ass again (an act he always performs with great enthusiasm). 

Then Fenris climbs off him, kneeling unsteadily on the bed. Damn, but he feels empty. "Move."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Off." Not very articulate. Fenris blinks. Has sex always slowed his wits like this?

So Hawke removes himself from the bed and Fenris turns, getting on his hands and knees. "Hawke. Fuck me."

Hawke's behind him in a second and slides his cock back in.

Fenris grunts, collapsing to his elbows. Hawke's already fucking him, gripping his hips tight. He's going hard now, not holding back an inch; Fenris would think it violent if it weren't exactly what he wanted. He feels as if the breath is being driven out of him with each thrust. 

Hawke must be getting close. He's not the only one.

Fenris grins deliriously, reaching down to rub his clit. The first touch drains all strength out of his legs, and he moans, lost in the pleasure radiating from his core. Was it this good before? That doesn't seem possible.

Hawke's still grasping his hips, fingers digging into Fenris's skin. " _Fuck,_ Fenris, you feel incredible." 

More compliments. Fenris has decided they're nice to hear. He strums his fingers across his clit, his cunt tightening around Hawke. Oh yes. He could come.

But he wants to keep this going a little longer. Every time Hawke rams into him he thinks the pleasure is too much but then Hawke's cock splits him open _again_ and he's shattered once more.

"Maker's breath. Fenris," Hawke rasps. "I'm—"

"Then come," Fenris snarls. "Then come in me, if— _ah—"_

His own orgasm roars into his awareness, too strong to hold back, and Fenris buries his face in the pillow, yelling until he's out of breath and then gasping, trying to push himself up, finding he's _still_ coming, collapsing again. Heat at his back, Hawke wrapping an arm around his chest and holding him tight, breathing throaty curses into his shoulder as his hips spasm and he pumps once more into Fenris's cunt.

They stay like that for a moment, Fenris shivering now and then through the aftershocks, before Hawke finally rolls off him and flops onto the bed. "That was," he mumbles.

Fenris lies down right where he is. "What?"

"Amazing."

"Hm. I agree." He turns onto his side, gazing at Hawke, who's grinning at nothing. Finds he's doing the same.

Hawke lets out a long breath. "Flip over, would you?"

Fenris obliges, turning the other way. Hawke immediately comes up behind him, hugging him with one arm, capturing Fenris's legs with his own. Fenris rolls his eyes. Of course. Not that he minds. Lying like this is…nice.

His eyes start to drift shut. That's fine. A nap would be nice too.

——

As it turns out, Hawke forgot to pack lunch, so when they both wake up with their stomachs growling, he proposes walking back to the estate for food and a bath.

It's too hot out to hold hands but they do it anyway, parting only when they come through the gates. Hawke has a talent for making enemies and doesn't want Fenris to become any more of a target than he already is. Once they duck in to the estate, he grabs Fenris's face and kisses him, then goes off to run the bath, telling Fenris to find his mother and beg for food.

Fenris does not have to go far. Leandra is standing in the door to the sitting room, eyes wide. Fenris realizes with a seizing of his gut that she must have seen her son kissing the scowling, tattooed Tevinter elf and is likely trying to figure out how to react.

When she speaks, she sounds more confused than horrified. "So you and Rowan are…"

She has no idea how to finish the sentence, and Fenris doesn't either, but he and Hawke are certainly _something_ , so— "Er. Yes."

"Ah." Her brow creases as she thinks this over. Then she sighs and smooths her dress. "Well, I know we haven't spoken much, but you're welcome here any time. Perhaps if you have some time this week we could have tea together. Get to know each other a little better."

She smiles at him. Fenris stares. This may be the least familiar situation he's faced all day.

"Mother! Hello." Hawke jogs back into the main hall. "Oh, you've…met Fenris. Excellent! Well, to tell the truth, we're both starved from all that gardening, so if it's all right…"

"Oh! Of course. I'll put something together." She turns and disappears into the sitting room.

"Fenris?"

Fenris shakes his head. "Yes. What is it?"

Hawke takes his hand. "Are you all right? You look a bit stunned."

"Your mother just invited me for tea."

"Well, that's…good, right?"

"I don't know. Is it? I've never been invited for tea in my life."

"It's not as fun as drinks, I can tell you that. Speaking of which, we're supposed to meet Varric and Isabela at the Hanged Man this evening. They left a note."

Fenris presses a hand to his forehead. He can guess how that's going to go. "Let's just get it over with."

——

After lunch, a bath, and a second brief nap (as well as one turned-down offer of another orgasm—Fenris tells Hawke he still wants to be able to walk tonight) they head to the Hanged Man.

Isabela and Varric are already there. Hawke grins and waves. "Evening!"

Fenris can't help smiling to himself as he remembers they were partially responsible for the events of the day. They truly are good friends. But Isabela's face drops as they approach. "Oh, no. You did, didn't you?"

Fenris blinks. "I—what?"

"Ha!" Varric crows. "Told you! Now pay up."

Isabela grumbles something in Rivaini and slaps a few coins on the table. "I can't believe it. Fenris, you always seemed so—you know, inhibited."

"And you, my dear, underestimate Hawke's many charms." Varric sweeps her coins off the table into his palm. "Told you he'd get the broody elf in bed."

Fenris feels his face flushing abruptly. Hawke pulls out a bench and sits down. "Wait a minute, how did you know we—you know?"

"That—" Isabela points at Fenris, "—is the smile of a man who's just had an excellent fuck. Don't even try to argue, I've seen it _dozens_ of times."

Fenris is starting to catch up with what's going on. "Hang on a moment—you made a bet on whether or not we'd sleep together?"

"Come on, Fenris, did you think we wouldn't?" Varric takes a swig of ale. 

It's a good point. He sits down across from Isabela. "Well, let me apologize for letting you down with my slattern ways."

"You want to make it up to me?" She leans across the table. _"Details."_

Fenris snorts. "Good try, but I don't think so."

Three drinks later and he's going back on his word. Isabela's in the middle of a giggling fit when Hawke sidles up to him, sliding an arm around his waist. "I missed you."

"I was three feet away."

"I know. It was awful." He rests his head on Fenris's shoulder. 

Clearly a few drinks deeper than Fenris is. Is this how it's going to be from now on? None of the tension, the guilt, the memory of hurt? Isabela knocks her mug against his, and Fenris takes another sip. He can't quite bring himself to believe it.


End file.
